Spring, keeping her head down

Spring, like me, dragged herself out of bed this morning
We each went about our days, her with half-done flowers,
me with yesterday’s eyeliner and day-two
hair that, like the gray branches finally tinged green
and the winter-weary trio of pines beyond the fence,
looks better windswept. Spring obliges
Sighs gusts down the street that
carry off our garbage cans and shred
the maple blossoms
new and lacy
from their twigs.
How much sun did they get to see?
The magnolias hold out,
holed up in pink fists clenched
against the overstayed chill
lesson learned from the daffodils, their uprising
too soon, once-proud petals
slowly going ragged. I see their wilted crowns
bruised to sepia shadows, penitents’ cloaks
framing still-hopeful faces
when I, ragged too, return home in the silver evening.

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11 thoughts on “Spring, keeping her head down

  1. My favorite image was the windswept hair/branches/pines. I also like what this poem is saying about defiance. How it can be quiet, how it can simply be an act of getting out of bed on a cold morning.

  2. Pingback: YeahWrite #313 Weekly Writing Challenge Winners and Staff Picks

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